THE PLEASURE OF MOTION. 827 



or a pot of beer would be very nice. So the young man who has 

 been confined too long dreams of canoeing and horseback-riding ; 

 before thinking that those exercises will do him good, he pleases 

 himself with representing them to himself. This desire, as it de- 

 fines itself, becomes more intense ; and, if it is opposed, intolerable. 

 At the same time physiological phenomena become apparent, 

 augmenting the uneasiness. A process of nutrition and reintegra- 

 tion is carried on in the muscle during rest. The products of 

 combustion, or the molecules that form stable compounds, are 

 eliminated and replaced by fresh combustible matter, or unstable 

 compounds. The muscle is then in what Rosenthal calls the sensi- 

 tive condition. The most minute spark will bring on an explo- 

 sion ; the slightest impression will provoke violent reflexes. In 

 such a state we feel nervous, as it is called ; or can not keep still. 

 The expression is exact. Our sensitive condition requires the 

 spontaneous movements which the mere idea of motion provokes. 

 A typical example of such suffering from forced rest is afforded 

 by the pupil waiting for school to be dismissed. He feels as if 

 his back was breaking and his legs were growing stiff. When 

 will the bell ring ? He wishes with a frantic inclination that he 

 could jump from his seat, shout, and run. He wriggles and drags 

 his feet on the floor. A hard look from the teacher fastens him to 

 his place, and he quiets himself ; but what a punishment it is to 

 endure it ! 



Motion also procures a positive physical pleasure for us. 

 When we give ourselves up to an exercise, or go at anything 

 with great energy, all the functions are accelerated, the heart 

 beats more rapidly, breathing becomes more frequent and deeper, 

 and we experience a general feeling of comfort. We live more, 

 and are happy in living. Rapid and boisterous movements pro- 

 duce also a kind of intoxication and giddiness that have a peculiar 

 charm.* 



" Let us imagine," says M. Guyau, " what are the feelings of a 

 bird as it opens its wings and glides through the air like an arrow ; 

 let us recollect what we ourselves have experienced in being car- 

 ried by a horse at a gallop, or upon a boat dipping into the hol- 

 lows of the waves, or in the whirl of a waltz ; all these motions 

 evoke in us the undefined idea of the infinite, of unbounded long- 

 ing, of superabundant and careless life, a vague rejection of in- 

 dividuality, a craving to go without restraint, to be lost in immen- 

 sity ; and such vague ideas enter as an essential element in the 

 impression which a great number of movements cause us/' The 

 observation is correct ; but I believe that this kind of pantheistic 

 intoxication is at bottom only a cerebral congestion. A horse, 



* The modern infatuation for round dances is chiefly explained by this intoxication of 

 dizziness. It is shown in children at a very early age. 



